


Doctor Novak

by Seralina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x12 coda, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'll wait forever for these two to be a thing, M/M, Tension, That freaking box, deanxCas - Freeform, spn 14x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 07:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seralina/pseuds/Seralina
Summary: Coda to 14x12. This was completely self indulgent. I needed to write out a 'turning point' for Dean and Cas since I didn't really see one in that episode. And this made me feel better, so I hope it does the same for you.  Something to ACTUALLY scratch that itch.





	Doctor Novak

Dean carefully cleared his throat and then shut the door to the Impala, the sound of it echoing in the bunker garage.  “So… what happened to the jacket?”  He fiddled with the handle slightly only letting his eyes glance up to Cas momentarily where he stood observing the Ma’lak box.  At the sound of Dean’s voice Cas turned, his head tilting slightly.  

“I.. left it at the nursing home.  With the stethoscope.  They weren’t mine.”  Then Cas squinted his eyes just a bit and took a few steps closer to Dean.  “Why do you ask?”  The deep gravel of his voice unnerved Dean.  Why  _was_  he asking? He started flipping the Impala keys on his finger, spinning them around and then pocketing them.  He shrugged.

“Just… curious.”  Dean needed to stop looking at his shoes, Cas was going to think something was up or he was hiding something, not just the fact that he was thinking about queueing up his favorite show on his laptop.  It had… been a while since he watched it.  

Quickly he raised his head to dispel his thoughts and found Cas still staring at him in that familiar, disorienting way.  Just as Cas started to open his mouth, clearly to press further into the mind of his favorite curiosity, Dean interrupted him.

“Uhh.. Wha-… What did you wanna talk about?”  He raised his hand to the back of his head, scratching lightly in a way he  _really_  hoped Cas couldn’t tell was a sign of his nonsensical nerves.  Why  _was_  he nervous? He watched Cas straighten his neck and shuffle his hands into his pockets.

“I think Sam covered all the ground there, Dean.  You’re here aren’t you?” Cas took another half step forward, still studying Dean but trying to be more subtle about it.  Dean’s arm dropped and he nodded.

“Right, yeah course.”  Then he turned to walk out of the garage, trying to ignore the heat rising on his face at looking like a complete idiot.  He just wanted to talk him out of his stupid decisions, that stupid box, his stupid martyrdom.  Duh.  

“Dean?” Cas called out to him making him stop in place and turn slightly over his shoulder to look back at the angel.

“Hmm?” Dean could hear the scuff of his shoes as Cas walked back up into his space, but Dean couldn’t turn around.  He was suddenly very aware of the fact that Sam had left the garage a while ago now and he was still out here with Cas.  Very aware of the fact that Sam had heard him earlier when he told Cas over the phone that  _it was good to hear his voice_.  That Sam had given them both a weird look before he quickly exited the garage without looking back.  

“What did you think I wanted to talk about, Dean?”  He mentally promises himself he will accidentally electrocute himself again if he’s wrong, but Cas’ voice sounded lighter.  Questioning in a different tone that made Dean’s legs vibrate like they might not hold him up any longer.  So Dean turns back slightly, but he still can’t face him entirely.  

“It’s just… on the phone you said we needed to talk.  But it was after we had said we would talk about that,” Here he gestures toward the trailer hitch with the ominous black box. “So I just thought it was about something else.  Clearly I was wrong though so no worries, let’s just-” 

“Stop running and actually talk to me, then.”  Cas cutting him off wasn’t super common, but he never thought he would see the day that Cas put his foot down about  _this_.  Sure enough his feet had started to move of their own accord, towards the freedom of the rest of the bunker where Sam was.  Where he would be safe from these questioning feelings and what if’s that made his chest feel like combusting from pain and… something else.  Not something pleasant though, perhaps Cas was right.  He was afraid.  Dean’s shoulders slumped and his head went with them.   He doesn’t hear Cas move, he can see his shoes out of the corner of his eye, he just stands still except his hands clenching and unclenching, waiting.  So Dean turns back to him, raises his head, and he takes a step closer.

“I’m afraid Cas.  Not just of the box.  Or of Micheal knocking. Or of… of… anything like that.”  Dean meets Cas’ eyes, unable to say the words, willing Cas to just  _know_  and not expect him to say it.  But Cas isn’t doing that.  He’s just standing there waiting for Dean, gazing at him with that imploring look.  His eyes almost seem to water with the way he looks at Dean, rippling like the view of the pool from a tall diving board.  All anticipation and potential and… fear.  “I know it’s sick and twisted, but I just know that if I climbed in that box and you guys dropped me in the ocean I wouldn’t be so afraid anymore.  I wouldn’t have to constantly worry about… all of you.”  Cas takes a hesitant step forward, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder as he tries to be a solidarity force.  He looks like he wanted to comfort Dean, but that wasn’t what Dean needs right now and Castiel knows this.  So as Cas’ mouth opened he cut him off for the second time in this conversation.  “I know that it’s a part of life, to worry about the people you… but it’s different with us.  Because we die.  Sam, Jack, and you.  We’ve all died again and again and there’s never a guarantee we’ll come back.  And I can’t, I-… You can’t-…”  His throat is closing, eyes watering but he is still looking at Cas and his wide blue gaze piercing though him.  His arm comes up and clamped down on Cas’ arm on his shoulder, making it slip so, essentially, they were holding each other’s biceps.  Dean squeezes hard.

“I know Dean.  When I was… last time-”  Cas was looking at him, trying to say it but not wanting to upset him more.  Dean hated himself for being so fragile.  “When we were… in your head, I saw it.  The memory of you seeing me… I could feel it.”  Dean’s hand slowly slipped lower, squeezing down for support.  “The trauma of that moment, I know how it affected you.”  Dean looked away, feeling torn open and like this conversation had gone so far off its tracks.  But then he felt a hand on the side of his face, Cas bringing him around again.  His eyes crinkling at the sides with a sadness that made Dean ache for the opposite.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry Dean.”  He felt the wetness on his cheek long before he realized what it meant, even more so, what it meant as he stared into Cas’ eyes and felt the pressure of his hand on his cheek increase.  “But you can’t do the same thing to me.  Just to avoid it happening to you again.  I will climb in that box with you before I let you just abandon us to face this eternity separately.”  

Dean had felt himself falling a long time ago.  It was like looking down into the cage when they had opened up that fathomless void almost a decade ago.  

“You can’t run forever.”  He hears Cas tell him as his eyes slip over to the hunk of metal next to his Baby.  Then his eyes slide back to Cas.

“That’s why I built the box.”  Dean tells him then pulls his hand off his face by the wrist.

“We haven’t been talking about the box, Dean.”  A cold chill runs down Dean’s spine as he takes a step back from Cas and drops his wrist, severing their physical connection.  Cas holds his ground, his hands balling into fists and with a determined and slightly predatory gaze Cas leans forward just slightly.  “Why did you ask about my doctor jacket, Mr. Winchester?”  Dean’s eyes go wide, he knows a lewer has been cast, and if he were to nibble…

“I just-”  But Cas takes a step and interrupts him, taking the fishing metaphor out of his hands and replacing it with shallow clear water, spear in hand.

“Why did you keep my jacket after the levithan?” 

“Cas, I-”  But another step makes Dean take one back.  

“Why didn’t you want to say goodbye to me?” 

Dean’s back hits the wall and he doesn’t try to speak as Cas gets even closer.

“Why am I your ‘big win’?”  There’s no anger in Cas’ face, it’s more like exasperation.  Like Cas is daring Dean to defy him.  Dean has a momentary flashback to an alley so long ago it felt like a different life.  But the energy of this moment is altogether separate and the same as that long ago echo.  The tension still strung tight, but time has desperately been tuning it up. 

“You can’t run anymore.”  Cas doesn’t say it in a threatening way, or in a demanding way, but in a desperate pleading way that Dean reads in the frantic shift of his eyes.  He can feel it in the way his arms bracket him in, like when someone puts the words  _the_ and  _end_  on the final page.  That’s what he’s doing now, but Dean is still scared.  He’s scared when his arms come up to hold Cas back, but instead they fist into that familiar trench coat.  He’s scared when his eyes dip lower for what feels like the millionth time since he met Cas, but this time his brain doesn’t force shut down and restart.  This time there’s lag time, buffering, considering  _this._  This was exactly why he had been nervous.  This is what drove him to ask about the damn jacket before he could stop himself.

“Oh, Cas.”  Dean says, his gaze coming back up to those cerulean eyes.  He’s scared of every nightmare turned reality where they leak the blinding white of an angel in death.  “I can’t lose you again.”  Then there’s Micheal’s pounding striking up a deafening beat again.  As if he’s trying to hammer in Dean’s insecurities with each attempt to breakout.  Cas watches the pain in his eyes and leans into his space, digging his heels in, not wanting to give in just yet.

“I can’t lose you either.  Please.”  They’re breathing in each other’s air, Dean let’s his forehead fall to Cas’ as his eyes fall shut focusing on drowning out Micheal.  He nods, moving Cas’ head with his.

“Okay.” Cas releases a breath of relief over the stressed lines of Dean’s face and they smooth out in response.  Cas let’s his hands leave the wall and they come up to gather Dean in his arms.  He tucks Dean’s head under his chin and just holds him, stroking hands up and down his back.  As the minutes pass the tension leaves Dean, with each pass of Cas’ hand the muscles and knots unwork themselves until Dean’s hands let go of the jacket and his fingers splay over his button down, one thumb lightly tracing at the clear, circular plastic.  

“Hey Cas?” 

“Yes Dean?”

“You looked like Dr. Sexy when you were wearing that jacket.”  Cas chuckles, making Dean’s head vibrate from where it’s still pressed into his sternum.  Dean uncurls from Cas, wanting to see that rare expression of happiness creasing the lines at Cas’ outer eyes.  Cas catches his eyes, smile still on his face.

“Dean… are you calling me  _sexy_?”  

“Yes.”  Dean manages to say, without missing a beat.  He watches as Cas’ eyes visibly warm even as the smile disappears.  How he swallows and his adam’s apple bobs.  As he drags his eyes back up the length of his throat, and chin, and lips how his tongue darts out to lick them.  Then it’s back to those eyes, with the humour and cautious optimism now playing in them.  “I’m not running.”  Then Dean carefully pushes his hands up, smoothing down the shirt, thumb lightly rubbing the silk of the tie, his fingers just under the edge of the tan armour.  All the way up to grip behind his neck…then he waits.  

“Okay.”  Cas says, eyes dropping to watch Dean’s lips, then he nods.  “Good.”

“Good?” 

“Yes Dean, I-”  And then Dean Winchester interrupted Castiel, angel of the lord, for the third time that night.  And there wasn’t anymore talking for quite sometime.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @4nticipati0n  
> Or on Fanfiction @Seralina  
> or on twitter @SeralinaLyn  
> I don't mind being pestered. (: Or vented at about these two, they will be the death of me I swear


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